But I already know what she’s about to do. “No,” I roar.

  Tori uncaps it and swallows the contents before I can reach her.

  Kendall yells. Broca merely watches with a look of calm anticipation. I drop to my knees beside Tori’s bed, heart thudding.

  But Tori only sits quietly. She looks over at me, some emotion swimming in her eyes. I can’t read it, and I’m too afraid to ask her what she’s thinking—or feeling. The mate bond doesn’t offer any clues, either. If she’s in more pain, I can’t sense it.

  Finally, she exhales, and her eyes clear, the glassy look she’s worn since the bear attack gone at last.

  “Tor?” Kendall whispers, full of hope.

  “It’s helping,” Tori assures her.

  I’m very aware I’m still on my knees on the floor. Like a desperate man begging. But I can’t remove myself. Not until I know she’s all right.

  Color returns to her cheeks, and then, before my eyes, the darkness in her veins fades until it’s completely gone.

  Tori looks up at Broca again. “Thanks.”

  Broca waves off the gratitude as I knew she would. “You are dark fae,” the glaistig says, her green eyes bright with curiosity.

  Tori nods. “My father.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She was a nymph.”

  Broca’s eyes brighten with a gleam I can’t decipher. She glances over at Kendall before continuing. “You are good with nature? Manipulating life?”

  Tori’s expression hardens. “Plants. Not humans.”

  “Tell me about the pain.”

  “It was sharp. Like being stabbed.”

  Her words distract me as I climb to my feet. How does she know what it’s like to be stabbed?

  Before I can ask, Tori’s eyes narrow at the glaistig. “I thought you were here to answer my questions, not the other way around.”

  “Do you have enemies?” Broca asks, completely ignoring Tori’s comment.

  Tori snorts.

  Broca’s brows lift at that. “I see.”

  “Is it a curse?” Tori asks.

  Broca doesn’t answer. Her green irises morph to cloudy white as she calls forth her power. In the distance, thunder rumbles. Broca begins muttering quietly. The air in the room warms, and my skin prickles. I take a step forward, not sure whether to intervene or not. But then Broca stops, and the pressure subsides.

  “Well?” I demand.

  “She’s cursed.”

  The glaistig stands, and Tori leans forward, suddenly earnest. “That’s it?”

  “What else is there?” Broca faces me, a shadow darkening her gaze.

  There’s more, but she won’t say it here.

  “How about telling me how to fix it,” Tori demands.

  Broca glances over her shoulder then back at me. “Stop touching people,” she says and then walks out.

  “Is she serious?” Tori demands.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say and follow Broca out into the hall.

  She’s fast, and I don’t catch her until we’re at the end of the hall near the stairs. Instead of taking them, she keeps moving, somehow seeming to know her way around despite the winding turns of this place.

  “Tell me the rest of it,” I say.

  She casts me a sideways glance that does nothing to ease the worry tightening my chest. “Walk with me.”

  I walk with her to the back doors that lead to the gardens, waiting for her to say more, but she continues silently onward, all the way back to the courtyard where the narrow stairs lead down to the road. The wind is stronger here, whipping her red hair against her collar. I bite my tongue, knowing if I push her, it’ll only make her more difficult.

  “Who is the young one?”

  Her question is not one I expect. “What?”

  “The girl. The seer. What do you know about her?”

  “Kendall? She is dark fae and nymph like her sister. I don’t know much else.”

  “Has she had training?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Hmm.” Broca frowns, clearly caught up in her own thoughts.

  My patience slips another notch. “Tell me about Tori, and I’ll consider finding out more about Kendall.”

  She huffs but doesn’t argue my offer. “She is your enemy then.”

  “What?”

  “Tori. She is your enemy. That is why you cursed her?”

  “I didn’t curse her.”

  Broca’s eyes flash. “What is this, some kind of test? Do you doubt my ability?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I didn’t trust your ability.”

  “Then stop lying to me,” she snaps.

  My temper threatens to unleash at that. “Watch your tone, old woman.”

  To her credit, she doesn’t flinch. “Your bloodline has cursed that woman. If you don’t want to share your reasons, that’s fine by me. But don’t call me here to fix something you broke.”

  She turns away, and I grit my teeth in an attempt to keep from yanking her back. “Wait.”

  She turns back, scowling.

  “I didn’t do this on purpose. Tell me what’s wrong with her.”

  She studies me for a long moment, and I reconsider the idea of using physical means to draw answers from her. Finally, she says, “My ancestors called it poison-kissed. An ancient curse meant to torture and punish. A fate worse than death, they said. It’s a complicated spell requiring power even I don’t possess.”

  I shake my head. “I’m no glaistig. How could I have done this?”

  “Could be your family.”

  I shake my head. “I have no family.”

  “I don’t have an answer for that, but the curse is sealed with your blood.”

  “How do you know it’s my blood?”

  She grunts in disgust. “I can smell your demon blood from here.”

  I ignore the insult. “How can I ease her pain?”

  Her eyes glitter, clearly unconcerned about Tori’s pain. “Find out if Kendall has had training.”

  I bite back the urge to drown her in hellfire. “Only if you tell me how to ease Tori’s pain.”

  “Her pain will grow worse every time she touches another. Refilling the poison well seems to replenish what was lost. I’d start there.”

  “You want me to keep giving her poison?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  I don’t answer, and she turns to go, walking slowly toward the far edge of the courtyard where a steep staircase offers the only way off the grounds.

  “Wait,” I call again. “How do I break it?”

  “You can’t.”

  She starts to walk off, but I rush after her. “Wait. There must be a way.”

  She sighs. “The curse can only be broken through an offering made from the one who cast it.”

  “And if I can’t find the one who cast it? If they’re dead?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “It’s broken when she’s fully drained of the curse’s poison.”

  “Drain the poison. Fine. And then she’ll be cured?” I ask hopefully.

  “Then she’ll be dead.”

  Chapter 17

  Tori

  “Well, that was complete and utter bullshit.”

  I stare at the door where Legion just left with his joke of a witch—or whatever the hell she is. The sight of his broad shoulders as he leaves has my stomach flipping. His reaction when I drank that poison is now an image burned into my brain. The concern—no, fear—he wore as he knelt beside me touched some part of me I’d long since locked away. Rather than admit how much it freaks me out, I scowl and refocus my irritation on the goat woman who told me zero things I didn’t already know.

  “We can get another opinion,” Kendall says, but her attention is also on the door where the old woman—young woman?—just left.

  “When you checked the future, did you see how pointless she would be?” I joke.

  Her gaze swings back to me, her lips curving wryly. “I was too busy checking to make sure you weren’t going to kill her.”

  “If she hadn’t left so quickly, I would have. It would have made the pain worth it.”

  Kendall softens. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good. Better than good. In fact…” I shove the covers off me and swing my legs over. Some part of me braces for pain at the movement, but I feel none. Drinking that poison solved everything—which is honestly a disturbing fact that I don’t allow myself to think too hard about. But at least the pain and my dark spider veins are gone. And so is the wound on my hip.

  “Whoa. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kendall demands.

  “Getting out of this room.”

  “Tor.” Kendall’s voice is a warning.

  “What?” I snap.

  Hurt flashes in her eyes, and I feel instantly terrible.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I just wish… I could use a hug,” I admit.

  Her smile is sad. “Me too.”

  My eyes sting with tears, and I look away, blinking them back before they can fall. This curse has never sucked more than this moment.

  “Do you think Juniper’s spirit is at rest?”

  The question throws me off. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I just thought… Legion charred the place pretty good before we escaped. Do you think it hurt her spirit? The fire?”

  “No.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Juniper’s in a place where she can’t be hurt,” I tell her.

  She nods, but I can see the grief so close to the surface.

  “We should have a service for her,” I say, and in this moment, I feel horrible for not thinking of it before now.

  Kendall’s expression is a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “Here?”

  “Sure. Why not? We can honor her memory from here just as easily as anywhere.”

  “You’re right.” She brightens. “That’s a great idea. When should we do it?”

  “How about now?”

  “You mean in here?”

  “Of course not, Juniper needs to be remembered outside.” I walk to the wardrobe and snag a fresh shirt, discarding my blood-soaked one. Then I grab my scarf, rewrapping my face as I move toward the door. “Come on. I know a place.”

  I half-expect Legion to be camped outside my door, ready to lock me inside. But the hallway is empty as I lead Kendall toward the back doors. Not even Chaya has made an appearance, which is weird, considering how attentive she’s been until now.

  It’s a strange sort of quiet. Not like the other times I’ve come this way. But I tell myself it’s just me and the weird day I’ve had.

  Outside, rather than following the wide path that I know leads to the stone courtyard Legion likes to use as a dramatic exit, I turn left at the first crosspath, heading deeper into the thick gardens. Here, the path is narrow, the tall hedges and climbing ivy pressing in around us. It’s comforting and peaceful, like being wrapped in a cocoon.

  “Oh, this is perfect,” Kendall says from behind me.

  At the end of the path, a thicket of trees sprawls to our left, the woods extending down a heavily-graded hillside. On the right, the cliff’s edge that seems to wrap around the entire backside of the property rushes up to meet us.

  Wandering into the trees, I find an acorn on the ground and pick it up. Kendall waits while I choose a spot and then bury it beneath a few inches of dirt. When I’m done, I stand back and look over at my sister. “Do you want to say anything?”

  “Sure.” She looks down at the freshly turned dirt, softening. “Juniper, you were a second mother for me. You were always there for us and made sure I felt loved and cared for. You taught me how to cook. How to take care of the earth and how to tap into my own power. I love you and miss you so much.”

  She sniffles and then nods at me, eyes watery.

  I look down at the loose dirt, my heart aching. “Juniper, we are so grateful for your sacrifice. You protected us when—” Emotion clogs my throat. I swallow hard against it. “I will never forget what you did for us. Tell Mom and Dad we love them.”

  With tears streaming, I call on my gifts and send a burst of power into the acorn. A moment later, the dirt loosens, and a seedling sprouts from the ground. It winds its way upward, thickening as it goes until a young tree stands before us. The trunk is thin but strong, and the leaves that sprout from the narrow branches are a healthy green.

  “It’s perfect,” Kendall says, sniffling.

  The leaves shimmer in the moonlight then begin to split. I stare, confused and a little horrified, as the leaves multiply into groups of three, taking on a very specific teardrop shape.

  Kendall reaches for the tree.

  “Stop!”

  She jerks back. “What?”

  “Don’t touch it,” I say.

  “Why not?”

  Fear curls in my gut. “It’s poison.”

  “What kind of… Oh, wait, is that poison oak?”

  “Yes.”

  Kendall turns to me, eyes wide. “How? You planted an acorn. This should be an oak tree. I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t know how,” I say, staring at the leaves like I can will them to return to what they’re supposed to be. But they remain unchanged.

  “Maybe your gifts are changing,” Kendall says quietly. “Now that we’re in Tartarus.”

  “Maybe,” I agree, though the truth twists its way into my thoughts.

  This curse is dangerous.

  It’s spreading even when I don’t touch something. Even when I don’t want to grow and spread poison, that’s what I’ve just done. I take a few more steps away from Kendall, putting more distance between us as she talks about Juniper’s memory.

  When our little memorial concludes, I fake exhaustion and escape to my room before she can read my fear. The moment I’m safely away from her and back inside, I pull my scarf off and shake out my hair. My need to always be covered head to toe is starting to wear thin. It’s not like I have another option, but my annoyance is there nonetheless. An annoyance that quickly turns toward brooding.

  Over Juniper. Over Legion and the way he knelt beside me in obvious fear when I drank that poison. And over this curse that only seems to feel lighter when I’m brimming with poison. But ultimately, I’m brooding over a future that’s looking more and more bleak with every day that passes.

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I almost don’t see the dark figure blocking my bedroom door.

  “I see you’re feeling better.”

  Legion’s voice startles me, and I brace myself against the wall, catching my breath. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I have that affect.”

  His mouth quirks up. It’s a smug look that should ruin the fact that he’s devastatingly handsome. But it only makes it harder to breathe.

  My heart thuds wildly, and I become very aware of the effect he has on me. “What do you want?” I ask, a little breathless.

  “I came to check on you, and you were gone.”

  “Kendall and I had a memorial service for Juniper.”

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “I grew a tree,” I say, not even sure why I’m telling him. “In the woods beyond the gardens.”

  “Were there not enough trees already for your liking?”

  I roll my eyes. “It was meant to be a memorial for Juniper.”

  “Ah.”

  “Anyway, don’t touch the tree, okay?”

  “If this tree is so personal to you, why put it out in the open?”

  I huff impatiently. “It’s not personal, it’s poison oak.”

  He studies me for a long moment. “Was poison oak special to Juniper?”

  “No, I… It was an accident.”

  He frowns, concern etching lines around his mouth that I want to trace with my finger. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either.”

  A beat of silence passes between us where it’s clear he’s waiting for me to elaborate. When I don’t, he changes direction, his gaze skimming my face and throat now exposed thanks to the scarf dangling from my gloved hands.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Or I was before I grew that damned tree.”

  “I thought poisonous plants were your thing.”

  “It started as an acorn,” I explain. “The damn thing should’ve been a harmless oak tree. Being able to change a seed from its origin is new.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  I sigh. “It means I’m not the only poisonous thing on your property anymore. Tread carefully.”

  “Are you worried about me?”

  “Of course not,” I snap, hating the way he flashes that smug smile again. And the way my body responds to it. “Just… don’t touch it.”

  “Only if you promise to stay inside for the rest of the day.”

  “What? Why?”

  His expression darkens, and I can practically scent the lecture on his tongue. But then he seems to change his mind and says evenly, “Today is something called Februlune. It’s a dangerous time for anyone to be out in Tartarus. Especially those who are not familiar with this place.”

  “What the hell is a Februlune?”

  “It’s what we call the moon fever, and it only occurs when both of our moons are full at the same time. I believe your world has something similar.”

  “The full moon on Earth calls to shifters,” I say. “I can’t recall it being dangerous.”

  “That’s because the shifters of Tartarus are shadow creatures, which makes our response to the double moons more intense. Tempers are shorter. There is a decline in humanistic characteristics as the animal within drives them.”

  “And this happens every month?”

  “Every three months.”

  “I see. So, double full moons make your people feral?” I ask, thinking about the bear. It had definitely lacked any sense of humanity.

  “Not feral exactly. It’s more about mating. If you’ve identified or met your mate but have not yet claimed them, the moon fever will drive you mad with the urge to get to them. You’ll attack anything else in your path along the way.”

  I study him, wary now as his words sink in. Not just the danger out there but also in here.

  “You’ve identified your mate,” I point out quietly.